


Helpless

by Kitexa



Category: One Piece
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Childhood Trauma, Depression, Drama & Romance, Established Relationship, Heartache, Hurt Vinsmoke Sanji, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Sex, Injury, Injury Recovery, M/M, Post-Thriller Bark, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pre-Time Skip, Secret Relationship, Whole Cake Island Arc Spoilers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-27
Updated: 2021-01-27
Packaged: 2021-03-13 11:21:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29027877
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kitexa/pseuds/Kitexa
Summary: [BETA] In which Thriller Bark concludes differently, and Zoro is left to pick up the pieces.
Relationships: Brook & Roronoa Zoro, Roronoa Zoro & Tony Tony Chopper, Roronoa Zoro/Vinsmoke Sanji
Comments: 9
Kudos: 98





	Helpless

**Author's Note:**

> I know this has been done before, but here's my take on it.

A laugh and a high-pitched cry of delight brought Roronoa Zoro back into the waking world—only it wasn’t his laughter, but that of his captain.

“Look at me!” Monkey D. Luffy exclaimed, and by the _thunk thunk_ of crunching rubble that followed suit, Zoro guessed he was bouncing in place. “I’m all better! Huh,” He added, and just like that, the thunking stopped. “I wonder why.”

Zoro groaned, opening his eyes. He’d had several rude awakenings since their crew entered the Grand Line, but this was fast- becoming a least favorite method. If it were anyone other than Luffy, Zoro might have barked over the celebration—or at the very least, glared so sharply he’d put his own swords to shame. However, it was Luffy and Zoro had long ago decided to stand by him, boisterous personality and all. Besides, everything hurt.

He carefully rolled over onto his back—at least he tried, but pain bloomed at the back of his head, splintering down and around his shoulders. He stopped, sucking in a sharp breath. A barrage of curses burst before his mind like stars, drowning out the building din behind him. Just as well, Usopp and Frankie were probably picking their jaws up off the floor, and the high-pitched squeaking in between suggested Chopper’s doubt over their captain’s remarkable turn-around _._ Nothing about Thriller Bark surprised Zoro anymore.

Gritting his teeth, he tried again and this time managed to push himself up. The world tilted forward as he sat back and somewhere in the back of his mind he wondered if he might be sick. It lasted for all of two seconds and after several deep breaths, the dizziness subsided. _Good_ , Zoro thought. If he didn’t know how to overcome his injuries, he wasn’t worthy of a swordsman’s title.

As his head cleared, Zoro took a proper look at his surroundings. He sat among the ruins of what’s-his-face, the Warlord’s castle, along with the rest of the Straw Hats. Everyone seemed a little worse for wear, littered in cuts and bruises—with the exception of Luffy, who continued to celebrate his spontaneous recovery. Zoro frowned. _That can’t be right._ He remembered the battle, not only with the Warlord (Moria?) but the zombie behemoth possessed by Luffy’s shadow. Even someone made of rubber ought to feel somewhat shaken up, but the man prancing about in the sunlight seemed anything but… _wait a minute. Sunlight? As in morning light?_ Zoro’s eyes widened. Had morning arrived before he’d passed out?

Like a cold wave crashing against rocky terrain, the memories flooded forward: the short-lived relief over having his shadow returned, the startling reveal of another Warlord on the island, watching his crew drop like flies and the screeching panic as Kuma proceeded to take Luffy’s head—

Suddenly Zoro was on his feet, pain be damned.

“The cook!” He rasped, frantically looking around. “Where’s the cook?” 

“Sanji?” Nami echoed. The celebration tapered off. Conversation followed as it became very clear very quickly the Straw Hat’s chef was not among them. That icy feeling squeezed Zoro’s chest like a vice. S _hit,_ he thought and then he was on the move, scanning the ruins for any sign of blond hair and curly eyebrows. _Shit shit shit_ _that idiot._

“Zoro!” Someone, probably Nami, called from behind him. The swordsman ignored it, sliding down a wall fragment that had remained intact. The chilly morning air seared his open wounds like hot iron but he ignored this too. He would heal, he knew. He’d survived worse, he always survived, be it skill or endurance or just plain stubborn determination. No matter the odds, no matter the adversary, Roronoa Zoro wouldn’t leave this world until he’d become its greatest swordsman. He had every confidence in that. He’d had it last night, too.

Rounding the corner of what used to be a turret, a flash of blond hair finally caught his eye. He stumbled to a halt, almost toppling over, but a quick shift in weight saved his balance. If it hurt, he didn’t notice. As he took in the sight before him, everything else—the ruins, the daylight --faded to white noise. Only his thundering heart echoed clearly, erratic and deafening in his ears. _Oh no._

Zoro vaguely registered the sensation of moving forward, and the dip in perspective as he crouched beside the cook’s crumpled form. _Oh shit. Oh no_.

“Oi,” Zoro said, but the word caught and scraped against the back of his tongue. He cleared his throat and tried again. “Hey cook. Are you…?” Zoro reached for him but withdrew almost immediately. Sanji was so pale—deathly pale—and the bruise-colored smudges over his visible eyelid offered little comfort. He looked, quite literally, like he’d been through hell. Blood streaked his face in ribbons, staining and matting his hair. Actually, there was blood everywhere, dribbling from his mouth, oozing from gashes in his hands and somewhere unseen beneath his blazer; Zoro knew by the delicate scarlet pool spreading from his abdomen. Was he even…? _Knock it off_ , Zoro told himself. _There’s still time._ There was always time. Time worked in his favor. All the same…

Zoro leaned forward then, reaching for the other man once more. He carefully slid his hand under Sanji’s lapel, cringing as his fingers skimmed the edge of an open cut. If he were conscious, Zoro knew the cook would yelp and swat that hand away, sputtering insults that vaguely targeted Zoro’s green hair. ‘ _What are you doing, you perverted marimo! Now is hardly the time!’_ Zoro of course would roll his eyes and deadpan that he was checking vitals, calm the fuck down, what kind of deviant did he take him for?

“You asshole,” he muttered, removing his hand. He sat up, wiping it on his shirt. Sanji was still breathing, albeit slower and strained. The rise and fall of his chest reflected this and provided no comfort. “What the hell were you thinking?” The sinking feeling in his stomach told him he already knew.

He bent forward again, carefully gathering the cook in his arms. The other man folded easily into his chest; for someone who possessed such a powerful kick, he was unassumingly slender. It was a stark contrast to Zoro’s bulkier, obviously muscled form and more than once he had waved it over Sanji’s head like a banner of pride. _‘What good will your legs do when you’re pinned like this?’_ he’d teased once, grinning and straddling the cook. The other man fumed and barked at him to _‘get off and I’ll show you, moron’_ but these were, in the end, empty threats. He remembered the way the cook huffed, beet red and unable to meet his eye. Zoro had laughed and finally climbed off, but not before poking his side. _‘You should work on that upper body strength, idiot,’_ he’d said _. ‘One of these days, you might have to get your hands dirty.’_

Zoro’s stomach rolled as he staggered to his feet. Sanji’s limbs swayed limply as he moved and his head lolled forward, knocking against the swordsman’s chest. He really did seem delicate now, delicate and fragile, like he might break at any moment. Zoro started running then, running and shouting for anyone with a working pair of ears to _get over here right now, we have a problem!_

Luffy met him halfway, along with Nami and Chopper.

“Sanji!” The little reindeer shrieked, his eyes as wide as saucers. “What happened?”

“I—” Zoro started, but his stomach rolled again, forcing him to pause. Maybe he really would be sick. 

“Zoro?” Something squeezed his shoulder; from his peripheral vision, he saw a rare look of concern on his captain’s face. Zoro swallowed.

“It’s complicated,” he managed finally, following a rough exhale. He looked down at the body in his arms. “He needs medical attention _now_.”

“I can see that,” Chopper squeaked. He waved a hoof towards a section of the castle that hadn’t been completely demolished. “Take him inside and be careful. I’ll be right there.”

“Got it,” Zoro said and then he was on the move again, bypassing his crewmates like a ghost in between worlds. He held the cook’s body close, trying not to jostle him anymore than he had already. “You should’ve listened to me,” he croaked as he approached a pair of wooden double-doors. The break in his voice startled him and he abruptly closed his mouth. What exactly went down between the cook and the warlord after he passed out?

**Author's Note:**

> As mentioned in the description, this is the beta/roughly edited first chapter. I've been working on this fic steadily for the last six months, but recently I'm finding it hard to stay focused and finished it. I thought sharing something, even a preview draft, might kickstart my motivation again. I'm about 3/4 of the way through writing this--if you'd like to read the rest, please let me know. I'd appreciate it!


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